Alfred An Heroic Poem, in Twenty-Four Books. By Joseph Cottle: 4th ed. |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. | BOOK XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
 | Alfred |  |
184
BOOK XII.
SCENE—THE DANISH CAMP BEFORE KENWITH CASTLE.
ARGUMENT.
The Danes attack Kenwith Castle; find the Saxons fled; Ivar arrives; Death of Ella; intelligence brought of the destruction of the Fleet; Quarrel of Hubba and Guthrum.
Hubba exclaim'd, gazing on Kenwith's walls,
‘Now is the hour arrived! Soon shall yon flag
‘That thus exalts its head, waving in scorn,
‘With every man in that devoted pile
‘On earth lie prostrate.’ Turning to his troops,
Wrathful he cried, ‘When on the battlements
‘This sword you see triumphant, spreading round,
‘Death and destruction, view your wrathful prince!
‘Nor till you see him stay the work of death,
‘Warriors, stay ye! for, by immortal Thor,
‘I swear no Saxon shall survive this day.’
When Guthrum rais'd his voice, but, as he spake,
Hubba, impatient cried, ‘Silence, O, man!
‘No moment this for words! Prepare thy sword.
‘We haste to triumph.’ When, the banner, near,
Eager he seiz'd, and march'd toward Kenwith's towers.
‘Now is the hour arrived! Soon shall yon flag
‘That thus exalts its head, waving in scorn,
‘With every man in that devoted pile
‘On earth lie prostrate.’ Turning to his troops,
Wrathful he cried, ‘When on the battlements
‘This sword you see triumphant, spreading round,
‘Death and destruction, view your wrathful prince!
‘Nor till you see him stay the work of death,
‘Warriors, stay ye! for, by immortal Thor,
‘I swear no Saxon shall survive this day.’
When Guthrum rais'd his voice, but, as he spake,
Hubba, impatient cried, ‘Silence, O, man!
‘No moment this for words! Prepare thy sword.
‘We haste to triumph.’ When, the banner, near,
Eager he seiz'd, and march'd toward Kenwith's towers.
185
Hubba replied, pride beaming from his eye,
‘On every side the dastard Saxons flee!
‘This isle is ours! nor doth one foe remain
‘To brave our onset. Now the fight is o'er.
‘Thou comest here to revel on rich spoils,
‘Not to contend with enemies, whose force
‘Merits thy valour. I have done the deed!
‘The honour mine!’—Ivar transported cried,
‘Thanks to the gods we worship! Thanks to him,
‘First of the heavenly throng, who from his halls
‘Descends when dangers threaten, and amid
‘Our army stands. But let us know thy deeds!
‘What hast thou done? and where the Saxon king,
‘Alfred, that stubborn foe?’ When Hubba thus:
‘On every side the dastard Saxons flee!
‘This isle is ours! nor doth one foe remain
‘To brave our onset. Now the fight is o'er.
‘Thou comest here to revel on rich spoils,
‘Not to contend with enemies, whose force
‘Merits thy valour. I have done the deed!
‘The honour mine!’—Ivar transported cried,
‘Thanks to the gods we worship! Thanks to him,
‘First of the heavenly throng, who from his halls
‘Descends when dangers threaten, and amid
‘Our army stands. But let us know thy deeds!
‘What hast thou done? and where the Saxon king,
‘Alfred, that stubborn foe?’ When Hubba thus:
‘Our native mountains, or Finmarkian plains,
‘Never such valour witness'd, as this land.
‘The feats of former wars, a semblance faint
‘Of these my matchless deeds; I have gone forth
‘Throughout the isle, scattering around me death,
‘And made my heart so conversant with blood
‘And fatal resolution, that till now,
‘Perils and strife, I never rightly priz'd.
‘This lovely land is ours! The toil is o'er!
‘And when the spoil is gathered, we are free
‘To form new plans, and subjugate new climes.
‘Now is our father's death aveng'd! This land
‘Curs'd with his blood, shall long the day bewail
‘That saw him perish. Dost thou, Ivar! ask,
‘Where Alfred is? would I could say in death!
‘Where is the fox, when the sun shews himself?—
‘Did I not name our father's death avenged?
‘Ivar! not yet. I have a captive here,
‘Whom to behold, will make thy bounding heart
‘Labour with ecstasy. Ella is mine!—
‘The base Northumbrian king who slew our sire!’
Ivar exclaim'd. ‘Ella! the Saxon king!
‘How came he thine? Lend me thy thunders, Thor!
‘Thy lightnings lend me! and inspire this heart
‘To find some curse, tenfold more horrible
‘Than man hath yet endured! Now, Hubba, name
‘Whence came the captive?’ Hubba thus replied:
‘Never such valour witness'd, as this land.
‘The feats of former wars, a semblance faint
‘Of these my matchless deeds; I have gone forth
‘Throughout the isle, scattering around me death,
‘And made my heart so conversant with blood
‘And fatal resolution, that till now,
‘Perils and strife, I never rightly priz'd.
‘This lovely land is ours! The toil is o'er!
‘And when the spoil is gathered, we are free
‘To form new plans, and subjugate new climes.
‘Now is our father's death aveng'd! This land
‘Curs'd with his blood, shall long the day bewail
‘That saw him perish. Dost thou, Ivar! ask,
‘Where Alfred is? would I could say in death!
‘Where is the fox, when the sun shews himself?—
‘Did I not name our father's death avenged?
‘Ivar! not yet. I have a captive here,
‘Whom to behold, will make thy bounding heart
‘Labour with ecstasy. Ella is mine!—
‘The base Northumbrian king who slew our sire!’
186
‘How came he thine? Lend me thy thunders, Thor!
‘Thy lightnings lend me! and inspire this heart
‘To find some curse, tenfold more horrible
‘Than man hath yet endured! Now, Hubba, name
‘Whence came the captive?’ Hubba thus replied:
‘Hear the glad tale! When to thy native shore
‘I saw thee sail, to rouse our countrymen
‘Against this isle; northward I sped, to seek
‘The man whom Danes most hate. Soon I beheld,
‘Ogbert; the fight began. Before our swords
‘He fell and all his host. Next Ella came,
‘Proud on his prancing steed, of victory sure,
‘And counting o'er his slaughter'd enemies;
‘Such was his confidence. I turn'd and cried,
‘Behold the murderer of your king! This day
‘We will perform a deed, of which the Scald,
‘Hereafter shall delight to sing, and tell
‘How Hubba, in his fury, met the man
‘Who slew his father; what he there perform'd,
‘Whilst vengeance flapt her wings; what spoil was won,
‘What banquets to the hungry wolves were given,
‘When, calling on our Odin and our Thor,
‘This fight began.—Long and severe the strife,
‘Till, by our arms o'erpower'd, the Saxons fled!
‘Death followed them! Our very swords were hot
‘With that day's slaughter! Ella was my prey!
‘With this strong arm I beat him to the ground!
‘I rais'd him up! This sword defended him—
‘To crown the day of triumph when we met!
‘Now thou art here, now shall our wrath be shewn.
‘Bring forth the captive Ella!’—
‘I saw thee sail, to rouse our countrymen
‘Against this isle; northward I sped, to seek
‘The man whom Danes most hate. Soon I beheld,
‘Ogbert; the fight began. Before our swords
‘He fell and all his host. Next Ella came,
‘Proud on his prancing steed, of victory sure,
‘And counting o'er his slaughter'd enemies;
‘Such was his confidence. I turn'd and cried,
‘Behold the murderer of your king! This day
‘We will perform a deed, of which the Scald,
‘Hereafter shall delight to sing, and tell
‘How Hubba, in his fury, met the man
‘Who slew his father; what he there perform'd,
‘Whilst vengeance flapt her wings; what spoil was won,
‘What banquets to the hungry wolves were given,
‘When, calling on our Odin and our Thor,
‘This fight began.—Long and severe the strife,
‘Till, by our arms o'erpower'd, the Saxons fled!
‘Death followed them! Our very swords were hot
‘With that day's slaughter! Ella was my prey!
‘With this strong arm I beat him to the ground!
‘I rais'd him up! This sword defended him—
‘To crown the day of triumph when we met!
‘Now thou art here, now shall our wrath be shewn.
‘Bring forth the captive Ella!’—
Ivar cried,
‘Thou worthy son of an exalted sire,
‘Thou art my brother! Now a flood of wrath
‘We both will pour o'er Ella; he shall feel
‘The bitterness of death, yet cease to die
‘Till we revenge have had—complete, and full.
‘He shall be flay'd!’
‘Thou worthy son of an exalted sire,
‘Thou art my brother! Now a flood of wrath
187
‘The bitterness of death, yet cease to die
‘Till we revenge have had—complete, and full.
‘He shall be flay'd!’
Now with his clanking chains,
Downcast and pale, the wretched Ella comes!
He sees before him death, whilst the fierce Danes
Scoffing behold him. When the chieftain cried
To those around, ‘Seize the perfidious king!
‘Tear off his garb!’—Ella approach'd and said,
‘Hast thou no mercy?’ ‘Mercy!’ cried the chief,
‘Where was thy mercy, when immured in earth,
‘My father lay? How was thy pity shewn,
‘When, from thy dungeon, Regner sent his voice,
‘In solemn tones, calling on us his sons
‘To think of Ella, whilst upon his heart
‘Fierce serpents preyed? He died, and so shalt thou!
‘Seize him, and bind him to yon tree! There carve
‘Upon his naked back the eagle's form,
‘Whilst we gaze on exulting.’—To the tree
The wretched Ella now is bound! With joy,
Wielding their monstrous knives, two men advance,
And from the neck, with an unshrinking hand,
Downward, the long gash draw. They pause awhile;
Then, 'neath the shoulder, either side, extend
The murderous weapon, and with straining hand,
Rend the tough skin, till o'er each elbow, wide
The flaps are spread, and to the gazing eye
The red nerve quivers!—
Downcast and pale, the wretched Ella comes!
He sees before him death, whilst the fierce Danes
Scoffing behold him. When the chieftain cried
To those around, ‘Seize the perfidious king!
‘Tear off his garb!’—Ella approach'd and said,
‘Hast thou no mercy?’ ‘Mercy!’ cried the chief,
‘Where was thy mercy, when immured in earth,
‘My father lay? How was thy pity shewn,
‘When, from thy dungeon, Regner sent his voice,
‘In solemn tones, calling on us his sons
‘To think of Ella, whilst upon his heart
‘Fierce serpents preyed? He died, and so shalt thou!
‘Seize him, and bind him to yon tree! There carve
‘Upon his naked back the eagle's form,
‘Whilst we gaze on exulting.’—To the tree
The wretched Ella now is bound! With joy,
Wielding their monstrous knives, two men advance,
And from the neck, with an unshrinking hand,
Downward, the long gash draw. They pause awhile;
Then, 'neath the shoulder, either side, extend
The murderous weapon, and with straining hand,
Rend the tough skin, till o'er each elbow, wide
The flaps are spread, and to the gazing eye
The red nerve quivers!—
Silent his fierce pain,
Ella had long endured, when Ivar cried,
‘Now let him die! Hubba, thy lance prepare!
‘Transfix his heart!’ Hubba his lance uprais'd,
And stepping forward, poised the weapon well,
Then, hurl'd it furious! Thro' the sufferer's heart
It forced its way, and each of all around
Rais'd the loud shout as Ella groan'd and died.
When Hubba thus: ‘One task alone remains;
‘Alfred, our greater foe, to seize and serve
‘Like yonder Ella, whilst the ravens round,
‘Snuffing their prey, sail slow, and croak for blood.’
Ella had long endured, when Ivar cried,
‘Now let him die! Hubba, thy lance prepare!
‘Transfix his heart!’ Hubba his lance uprais'd,
And stepping forward, poised the weapon well,
Then, hurl'd it furious! Thro' the sufferer's heart
It forced its way, and each of all around
188
When Hubba thus: ‘One task alone remains;
‘Alfred, our greater foe, to seize and serve
‘Like yonder Ella, whilst the ravens round,
‘Snuffing their prey, sail slow, and croak for blood.’
While gazing o'er the scene, Hubba exclaim'd
‘What noise is that?—Yon man!—whence came he? Say,
‘Stranger! thy business!’ When the man drew near,
A mariner, and cried, ‘The day is lost!
‘Ruin approaches fast! The fleet! the fleet!’
‘What mean'st thou?’ Ivar cried: ‘Mortal declare!
‘Or death reward thee!’ ‘Stay thy hand,’ the man
Cries trembling, ‘This my tale: The fleet is lost!
‘Burnt! Vanish'd! Not a plank where once it lay
‘Now may be seen!’—
‘What noise is that?—Yon man!—whence came he? Say,
‘Stranger! thy business!’ When the man drew near,
A mariner, and cried, ‘The day is lost!
‘Ruin approaches fast! The fleet! the fleet!’
‘What mean'st thou?’ Ivar cried: ‘Mortal declare!
‘Or death reward thee!’ ‘Stay thy hand,’ the man
Cries trembling, ‘This my tale: The fleet is lost!
‘Burnt! Vanish'd! Not a plank where once it lay
‘Now may be seen!’—
NOt more amaz'd is he,
Who meets his death-wound from some hidden cause,
Than Ivar and the chiefs that round him throng'd.
‘Burnt! did'st thou say?’ Th'indignant warrior cried;
‘Whence came the fire? The gods are on our part,
‘And where the Saxons? Name it not again!
‘Nay own thyself a lair, or this sword
‘Wars with thy life!’—
Who meets his death-wound from some hidden cause,
Than Ivar and the chiefs that round him throng'd.
‘Burnt! did'st thou say?’ Th'indignant warrior cried;
‘Whence came the fire? The gods are on our part,
‘And where the Saxons? Name it not again!
‘Nay own thyself a lair, or this sword
‘Wars with thy life!’—
The mariner replied,
‘'Twas false! Now check thy wrath.’ Ivar exclaim'd,
‘Tell me the truth! Play with the lion's paw,
‘But fear thy Prince!’—‘If then declare I may,’
Answer'd the mariner, ‘By this good sword,
‘My words were true! The fleet indeed is burnt!
‘The very clouds of heaven, caught the fierce glow!
‘Methinks I see it yet.’
‘'Twas false! Now check thy wrath.’ Ivar exclaim'd,
‘Tell me the truth! Play with the lion's paw,
‘But fear thy Prince!’—‘If then declare I may,’
Answer'd the mariner, ‘By this good sword,
‘My words were true! The fleet indeed is burnt!
‘The very clouds of heaven, caught the fierce glow!
‘Methinks I see it yet.’
A sudden fear,
A dark anticipation, indistinct,
Now fill'd the Danes. Their very natures changed
To momentary languor and so still'd
Their fiery wrath, that each appear'd to each,
Spell-bound and half forgetful of himself.—
So the fierce bears, that unmolested range
The snowy arctic, whilst, amid the plains,
Or mountains wild, they gave their hideous yells,
Breaking the sleep of Nature, that half seems
To rise from her eternal slumbers, white,
With fearful expectations and strange dreams!
Till, wand'ring through the ice, or forest dark,
Sudden they meet the pit-fall, and, for once,
Forget their brumal appetites, and crouch
Peaceful beside some brother of the wood.
A dark anticipation, indistinct,
Now fill'd the Danes. Their very natures changed
To momentary languor and so still'd
189
Spell-bound and half forgetful of himself.—
So the fierce bears, that unmolested range
The snowy arctic, whilst, amid the plains,
Or mountains wild, they gave their hideous yells,
Breaking the sleep of Nature, that half seems
To rise from her eternal slumbers, white,
With fearful expectations and strange dreams!
Till, wand'ring through the ice, or forest dark,
Sudden they meet the pit-fall, and, for once,
Forget their brumal appetites, and crouch
Peaceful beside some brother of the wood.
Cried Ivar, whilst his labouring breath heaved hard,
‘Where are the women? Are they massacred?’
‘All! all!’ the man replied.—‘Vengeance afresh!’
Exclaim'd the chieftain. ‘Seize your swords! Prepare
‘For fiery wrath, and hate unquenchable!’
Through all the Danish ranks one sound was heard—
‘Blood! Blood!’ whilst Hubba turn'd—foaming with ire
And hurl'd at Ella's corse another lance.—
Rous'd from the transient silence, Hubba cried,
‘Rejoice, oh, brother! this is as the brave
‘Might truly wish! What led our footsteps here?
‘Not to defend a fleet, but, conquer crowns!
‘And we will conquer. Will, did I declare?
‘Conquer'd we have! Our vanquish'd enemies,
‘Flee ever, whilst their boasted king, grown wise,
‘Unfriended hides 'mid cave and precipice.’—
Ivar replied, ‘This news is ominous!
‘And what thou say'st of crowns and victories
‘Comes coldly to mine ear. Yet, we are Danes,
‘Who obstacles may meet, but cannot fear.’
‘I tell thee,’ Hubba cried, ‘This isle is ours,—
‘Conquer'd. No foe remains, and Alfred's self
‘Quick ruin shall o'ertake! I augur well
‘This deed is his.’
‘Where are the women? Are they massacred?’
‘All! all!’ the man replied.—‘Vengeance afresh!’
Exclaim'd the chieftain. ‘Seize your swords! Prepare
‘For fiery wrath, and hate unquenchable!’
Through all the Danish ranks one sound was heard—
‘Blood! Blood!’ whilst Hubba turn'd—foaming with ire
And hurl'd at Ella's corse another lance.—
Rous'd from the transient silence, Hubba cried,
‘Rejoice, oh, brother! this is as the brave
‘Might truly wish! What led our footsteps here?
‘Not to defend a fleet, but, conquer crowns!
‘And we will conquer. Will, did I declare?
‘Conquer'd we have! Our vanquish'd enemies,
‘Flee ever, whilst their boasted king, grown wise,
‘Unfriended hides 'mid cave and precipice.’—
Ivar replied, ‘This news is ominous!
‘And what thou say'st of crowns and victories
‘Comes coldly to mine ear. Yet, we are Danes,
‘Who obstacles may meet, but cannot fear.’
‘I tell thee,’ Hubba cried, ‘This isle is ours,—
‘Conquer'd. No foe remains, and Alfred's self
‘Quick ruin shall o'ertake! I augur well
190
Now to the tower they pass,
When Hubba thus: ‘Guthrum! what thoughts are thine?’
The chieftain answer'd. ‘Light as are the winds
‘I heed these tidings, yet, in human ways,
‘Strange accidents turn out, and wide the bounds
‘Of possibility. This wasted fleet
‘Might some time hence have serv'd our cause! Oh, no!
‘I wrong'd my better sense:—all aid is vain
‘But that which centres in ourselves—in Danes!
‘The blow falls heaviest which despair brings down!’
‘Rash! false adviser! didst thou say despair?
‘What word is that? We know it not,’ exclaim'd
Hubba, enraged. ‘Shall we whose mailed hearts
‘Fear never enter'd, for a moment name—
‘The thing despair?’—
When Hubba thus: ‘Guthrum! what thoughts are thine?’
The chieftain answer'd. ‘Light as are the winds
‘I heed these tidings, yet, in human ways,
‘Strange accidents turn out, and wide the bounds
‘Of possibility. This wasted fleet
‘Might some time hence have serv'd our cause! Oh, no!
‘I wrong'd my better sense:—all aid is vain
‘But that which centres in ourselves—in Danes!
‘The blow falls heaviest which despair brings down!’
‘Rash! false adviser! didst thou say despair?
‘What word is that? We know it not,’ exclaim'd
Hubba, enraged. ‘Shall we whose mailed hearts
‘Fear never enter'd, for a moment name—
‘The thing despair?’—
Guthrum indignant cried,
‘How speak'st thou, chief! I, Hubba! of despair
‘Talk, and indulge weak fears for thee and me!
‘Young prince, thou know'st me not! Did I thus feel,
‘When, with thy father Regner, I pursued
‘The fierce Biarmian! Never did I fear
‘Serpent or giant, or the evil hour
‘When cowards tremble. Know! I fear not thee!’
‘How speak'st thou, chief! I, Hubba! of despair
‘Talk, and indulge weak fears for thee and me!
‘Young prince, thou know'st me not! Did I thus feel,
‘When, with thy father Regner, I pursued
‘The fierce Biarmian! Never did I fear
‘Serpent or giant, or the evil hour
‘When cowards tremble. Know! I fear not thee!’
‘Thy sword!’ cried Hubba. Now be death thy fate,
‘Or mine!’ Him Guthrum answer'd not, but forth,
Dared to the fight, and as they forward rush'd,
Ivar exclaim'd, ‘Spirits of hell, avaunt!
‘What means this strife? O, Danes, restrain your wrath!
‘I grieve for this your rashness! Where is now,
‘Hubba! thy wisdom? Guthrum! thy control?’
Each warrior, still remain'd; their massy shields,
Rais'd, and their swords suspended in the air;
When Ivar thus spake on.—
‘Guthrum, forbear!
‘Check thy mad ire! Raise not, vindictive thus,
‘Thy arm for slaughter, when before thee stands
‘Denmark's proud prince! And Hubba, stay thy sword!
‘Think who endures thy wrath! Thy father's friend!
‘The guardian of our fortunes, and the man
‘Whom Regner thought of, at his death, and cried,
‘He shall avenge my fall!’ Truly he spake,
‘He has avenged it! View him as he is,
‘Rash, yet endued with truth, and heaven's best gifts,
‘Fidelity and courage.’
‘Or mine!’ Him Guthrum answer'd not, but forth,
Dared to the fight, and as they forward rush'd,
Ivar exclaim'd, ‘Spirits of hell, avaunt!
‘What means this strife? O, Danes, restrain your wrath!
‘I grieve for this your rashness! Where is now,
‘Hubba! thy wisdom? Guthrum! thy control?’
Each warrior, still remain'd; their massy shields,
Rais'd, and their swords suspended in the air;
When Ivar thus spake on.—
‘Guthrum, forbear!
191
‘Thy arm for slaughter, when before thee stands
‘Denmark's proud prince! And Hubba, stay thy sword!
‘Think who endures thy wrath! Thy father's friend!
‘The guardian of our fortunes, and the man
‘Whom Regner thought of, at his death, and cried,
‘He shall avenge my fall!’ Truly he spake,
‘He has avenged it! View him as he is,
‘Rash, yet endued with truth, and heaven's best gifts,
‘Fidelity and courage.’
‘Guthrum's sword,
Dropp'd, and he cried, ‘The conflict now is o'er!
‘Hubba, thy hand! We know ourselves too well,
‘Courage to doubt, for thou art brave, and I,
‘I trust, not less so. Let us save our wrath—
‘The foe demands it!’—Hubba sheath'd his sword,
And with a smile repress'd, that seemed to hide
The lurking purpose, answer'd, ‘True, thy words.
‘They do indeed demand it, but, to find,
‘There is the stratagem. They flee our shades,
‘And by their secret and night-brooding plans
‘Make all our threat'nings vain.’ Hubba again,
After a moment's pause.—
Dropp'd, and he cried, ‘The conflict now is o'er!
‘Hubba, thy hand! We know ourselves too well,
‘Courage to doubt, for thou art brave, and I,
‘I trust, not less so. Let us save our wrath—
‘The foe demands it!’—Hubba sheath'd his sword,
And with a smile repress'd, that seemed to hide
The lurking purpose, answer'd, ‘True, thy words.
‘They do indeed demand it, but, to find,
‘There is the stratagem. They flee our shades,
‘And by their secret and night-brooding plans
‘Make all our threat'nings vain.’ Hubba again,
After a moment's pause.—
‘This recent loss
‘We need not heed, but, that it seems to shew
‘Our foes, tho' weak, unconquer'd, and resolved
‘To work in darkness. Danes can never fear!
‘But, to my mind, tho' of success secure,
‘One deed seems needful! we must deprecate
‘Heaven's anger, and a victim's blood must flow.
‘Speak I not well, O, Ivar?’ He replied.
‘Thou dost. Some blood must flow, of human kind;
‘Gods will receive none else, but whose, this hour
‘Need not determine. I would further speak.
‘Hubba, our brother,—ere the fight begin,
‘And Alfred fall before us, nine long days
‘With sacrifice, must we invoke our Gods—
‘T' insure success; then for the hour of wrath!’
When, turning, thus he spake. ‘Guthrum, 'tis meet
‘To send some spies, to learn how now we stand,
‘And where our enemies, what force they have;
‘That when the hours of merriment are o'er
‘Our swords may rise to vengeance.’ Guthrum heard
And forth withdrew.
‘We need not heed, but, that it seems to shew
‘Our foes, tho' weak, unconquer'd, and resolved
‘To work in darkness. Danes can never fear!
‘But, to my mind, tho' of success secure,
‘One deed seems needful! we must deprecate
‘Heaven's anger, and a victim's blood must flow.
‘Speak I not well, O, Ivar?’ He replied.
‘Thou dost. Some blood must flow, of human kind;
‘Gods will receive none else, but whose, this hour
‘Need not determine. I would further speak.
‘Hubba, our brother,—ere the fight begin,
‘And Alfred fall before us, nine long days
192
‘T' insure success; then for the hour of wrath!’
When, turning, thus he spake. ‘Guthrum, 'tis meet
‘To send some spies, to learn how now we stand,
‘And where our enemies, what force they have;
‘That when the hours of merriment are o'er
‘Our swords may rise to vengeance.’ Guthrum heard
And forth withdrew.
The sounds his footseps made
Yet might be heard, when Hubba thus bespake.
‘Death on that Dane! The birds of deepest hell
‘Gorge on his heart! He rais'd his sword 'gainst mine!
‘Yes, Ivar! thou did'st see the sight! Thine eye
‘Witness'd thy brother's shame! and Hubba lives,
‘Injured, yet unrevenged! Why did my arm
‘Spare him? Beneath my feet, why lay he not
‘Mantled in gore?’ Wrought up to maddening rage,
And fierce as mountain torrent, he, again.
‘Ivar! thou see'st my sword; but if once more
‘This hand should shew it thee, and not o'erspread
‘With Guthrum's blood, then may I never meet
‘My murder'd father!’—Having said, he rush'd
Full toward the door, when Ivar, following, seized,
And thus exclaim'd;—‘Withhold the fatal deed!
‘Stay thy rash hand! Surrounded as thou art
‘By death and danger, would'st thou lift thy sword
‘'Gainst Guthrum?—that illustrious chief, whose name
‘Shines in our brightest annals? Hubba, know!
‘This wrath of thine so blinds thee, that thou view'st
‘The colour and complexion of his mind
‘Whom Denmark honors, in mistaken hues;—
‘As, mid the sunshine, sable birds look white.
‘Restrain thy raging spirit!’
Yet might be heard, when Hubba thus bespake.
‘Death on that Dane! The birds of deepest hell
‘Gorge on his heart! He rais'd his sword 'gainst mine!
‘Yes, Ivar! thou did'st see the sight! Thine eye
‘Witness'd thy brother's shame! and Hubba lives,
‘Injured, yet unrevenged! Why did my arm
‘Spare him? Beneath my feet, why lay he not
‘Mantled in gore?’ Wrought up to maddening rage,
And fierce as mountain torrent, he, again.
‘Ivar! thou see'st my sword; but if once more
‘This hand should shew it thee, and not o'erspread
‘With Guthrum's blood, then may I never meet
‘My murder'd father!’—Having said, he rush'd
Full toward the door, when Ivar, following, seized,
And thus exclaim'd;—‘Withhold the fatal deed!
‘Stay thy rash hand! Surrounded as thou art
‘By death and danger, would'st thou lift thy sword
‘'Gainst Guthrum?—that illustrious chief, whose name
‘Shines in our brightest annals? Hubba, know!
‘This wrath of thine so blinds thee, that thou view'st
‘The colour and complexion of his mind
‘Whom Denmark honors, in mistaken hues;—
‘As, mid the sunshine, sable birds look white.
‘Restrain thy raging spirit!’
‘When I cease,
Cried Hubba, ‘To forget this hour, inscribed
‘With wrongs indelible, all Vallhall, hear!
‘May I forget myself! Thou saw'st his sword!
‘And yet he lives! Denmark's triumphant prince
‘Stood and beheld a mortal raise his arm,
‘Yet slew him not! But brief the wrong. Away!
‘Tempt not my wrath! Withhold thy iron grasp
‘And give me passage, or, before this sword,
‘E'en thou shalt fall! He dared my wrath! Stand by!
‘Parley anon!’—‘E'en now,’ cried Ivar, ‘stop!
‘Thou shalt not pass! but, hear me! Stay thine ire,
‘And listen, for before thee stands a pit,
‘Thou little know'st how deep! Are we not all
‘Surrounded by the Saxons? Would'st thou now—
‘At such an hour, survey thyself alone,
‘And not remember, that, on hostile soil
‘We sojourn, whilst an enemy around
‘Longs for our discord—waiting to devour
‘Both thee and me? Be wise and know thyself!
‘And if thou must, with blood, wipe out this stain,
‘Fancied, not real, stay till we have ground
‘Alfred to dust;—then, like our chiefs of old,
‘The heroes of our song,—rage, fight, and die!’
Cried Hubba, ‘To forget this hour, inscribed
‘With wrongs indelible, all Vallhall, hear!
193
‘And yet he lives! Denmark's triumphant prince
‘Stood and beheld a mortal raise his arm,
‘Yet slew him not! But brief the wrong. Away!
‘Tempt not my wrath! Withhold thy iron grasp
‘And give me passage, or, before this sword,
‘E'en thou shalt fall! He dared my wrath! Stand by!
‘Parley anon!’—‘E'en now,’ cried Ivar, ‘stop!
‘Thou shalt not pass! but, hear me! Stay thine ire,
‘And listen, for before thee stands a pit,
‘Thou little know'st how deep! Are we not all
‘Surrounded by the Saxons? Would'st thou now—
‘At such an hour, survey thyself alone,
‘And not remember, that, on hostile soil
‘We sojourn, whilst an enemy around
‘Longs for our discord—waiting to devour
‘Both thee and me? Be wise and know thyself!
‘And if thou must, with blood, wipe out this stain,
‘Fancied, not real, stay till we have ground
‘Alfred to dust;—then, like our chiefs of old,
‘The heroes of our song,—rage, fight, and die!’
‘Thy words are wise,’ cried Hubba. ‘We will first
‘The daring Alfred vanquish, then shall burst—
‘The purpose that lies here. The grand account
‘Shall be in after times. When Guthrum thinks
‘All in oblivion, then will I exclaim
‘War! war! eternal! Yet may I display
‘Something of that deep vengeance, even now,
‘That swells my heart.—He hath a Saxon Slave—
‘A female captive, fair as Gimer's child!—
‘Talk'd we not, Ivar! of some sacrifice
‘T' appease the Gods?—But, Duty calls us hence!
‘Hereafter, we will speak more confident.’
‘The daring Alfred vanquish, then shall burst—
‘The purpose that lies here. The grand account
‘Shall be in after times. When Guthrum thinks
‘All in oblivion, then will I exclaim
‘War! war! eternal! Yet may I display
‘Something of that deep vengeance, even now,
‘That swells my heart.—He hath a Saxon Slave—
‘A female captive, fair as Gimer's child!—
‘Talk'd we not, Ivar! of some sacrifice
‘T' appease the Gods?—But, Duty calls us hence!
‘Hereafter, we will speak more confident.’
| Alfred | |